


Hours

by Tea_and_Deerstalkers



Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, John needs to pay more attention, M/M, Masturbation, Scarf Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_and_Deerstalkers/pseuds/Tea_and_Deerstalkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(My first post, be gentle with me)</p><p>‘It’s been hours since Sherlock’s even moved… Well when I say moved, I can see him breathing…<br/>How can the man possibly go this long without moving an inch?<br/>He’s going to be sore when he wakes up… At least, I think he’s asleep. It’s hard to tell with Sherlock…’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hours

‘It’s been hours since Sherlock’s even moved… Well when I say moved, I can see him breathing…   
How can the man possibly go this long without moving an inch?   
He’s going to be sore when he wakes up… At least, I think he’s asleep. It’s hard to tell with Sherlock…’

  
John pushed away from his laptop to stare at the figure on the sofa, he had half a mind to shake the man out of his mind palace… but the other half valued what little of a life he had, so he just sat down in his armchair and stared at the detective who was currently in a position that most people would mistake for praying… John had a vague idea of how the man’s mind worked now and that it worked in some funny ways… It had been four hours exactly without a movement… surely the man had to move by now… eat something? Even use the bathroom? But no… He didn’t move, didn’t show a sign of discomfort… John often wondered why he didn’t enjoy moments like this, all he seemed to do when Sherlock was awake was staring at his perfect figure and wish he was asleep.

  
John felt bored, utterly bored… he understood how Sherlock felt when there was nothing to do… he felt like taking his gun from the drawer and adding a few holes to the wall himself… but that of course would wake Sherlock and trigger something far more unpleasant than a gunshot…

  
“All those in favor of me shooting the wall… raise your hand” he said aloud in an attempt to disturb the younger man. When there was no response he sighed again and started staring around the room at things he knew would be there… of course the skull is there, he put it there… so were the picture frames… and the books… and the magazines…

His mind began to wander…

  
Sherlock…

  
John heaved a sigh and leant back in his seat and looked over at the detective again… the way the silk of his pajamas clung to his body…

  
Sherlock in silk…

  
He wondered what it would look like if Sherlock was hard in those clothes… how obvious and impossible it would be to hide…

  
Sherlock hard in silk…

  
Would Sherlock hide it? Or would he flaunt it? Parade around? Of course he would it didn’t even need thinking… Sherlock would obviously be the one to point it out… and to have John talk to him about it…

  
Sherlock naked and hard…

  
He shouldn’t be having these thoughts… not now, not when Sherlock would only come and find him the moment he retreated to his room.  
The doctor bit his lip slightly before turning to the TV… there was no signal and the screen had been static for hours… much like Sherlock…

  
Lying on your bed, naked, hard and waiting…

  
What made it worse was the voices in John’s head were in Sherlock’s voice… that deep… rich… posh voice… John closed his eyes and swallowed hard… This was pathetic… he was a grown man; he shouldn’t be getting excited from just looking at someone… Surely he had that much self-control? He bit his lip again and turned to look at the sleeping form; he almost jumped in his seat when he had realized that Sherlock’s hands were now resting on his stomach… had he heard him? Was he really awake? John felt hot all of a sudden, he groaned as he felt blood rush south… the voices in his head really not helping him, he threw himself back against the armchair sending a cloud of dust and Sherlock’s scent into the air, making it harder for John.

  
Touch him…

  
John groaned silently and screwed his eyes shut… if he was asleep… he wouldn’t hear him… if he was so far into his own mind… he might not even feel anything… John glanced down to see the embarrassing tent in his jeans, he sighed and accepted the fact he was now hard from listening to the voices…  
He was mad… Sherlock had driven him mad. He’d only been living there for a year and he was already talking to himself, hearing things and lusting over men… Well a man… Sherlock was the only bloke he’d ever considered touching.

  
I bet he smells amazing…

  
The voices in his head were purring now, but he couldn’t bring himself to move yet… he looked around him until he found just what he was looking for… The soft cashmere scarf hung on the back of the armchair… Well at least he knew why Sherlock’s scent had been so strong. He pulled the blue material around his neck and inhaled deeply, his head spinning, his pants growing uncomfortably tight all of a sudden. John had to do something about this now… if Sherlock were to wake up with John in this state he would be mortified…

  
Waiting for you…

  
The poor blogger held back a moan as another wave of heat spurred on his arousal. He placed a hand over the bulge in his trousers and gasped. He couldn’t help but palm himself, he was too far gone, closing his eyes and picturing Sherlock naked, writhing and tossing himself off on that very sofa. John hated his vivid imagination and loved it all at the same time. Suddenly rubbing himself through his jeans wasn’t enough, he pulled down his zipper, unbuttoned the waist and pushed his hand into his boxers to wrap a hand around his throbbing member.

  
“Ah…” He gasped, struggling not to wake the world’s only ‘consulting detective’.

John brought his hand to his mouth and wet his thumb with saliva before sweeping it over his sensitive head. He gasped again and pictured Sherlock on his knees, swallowing his hard cock. He could feel the man’s hot breath on his stomach, the tight grip on his thighs as he let out another moan. It had been a while since John had done this and he could already feel the heat pooling in his abdomen. He knew he didn’t have time to drag this out, he had to finish this quickly before Sherlock woke or god forbid, Mrs. Hudson decided to pay a visit. He quickly pushed the old woman from his mind as he bit his lip, he dug his nails into his denim-clad thigh and had to use all the willpower he had to silence his screams as he climaxed, the damp feeling spreading in his boxers… after he came down from his orgasmic high he suddenly felt very dirty and uncomfortable… but nothing could’ve prepared him for what awaited him as he opened his eyes.

  
Sherlock was now sitting up, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands together and resting against his lips as he stared, no emotion on his face, just staring. John didn’t know what to do, he was frozen in the chair, wishing, begging a higher power just to end his life there and then… and then the taller man spoke.

  
“Having fun?”

  
The sheer shock of Sherlock’s words was enough to start Watson giggling

  
“You… how long were you?…” John struggled

  
“Well I would’ve put my hand up earlier… But my shoulder ached” Sherlock mumbled. John let out a strangled groan as he pulled the neck of his jumper over his face to hide his shame.

  
“You might want to remove your hand from your underwear… you look a little odd, even for my standards” Sherlock smirked. John slowly removed his hand and whined from inside his jumper.


End file.
